


say what your soul sings to you

by thisstableground



Series: less than ninety degrees [6]
Category: Do No Harm (TV)
Genre: (but only in the background), Autism, Fluff, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Straight up fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstableground/pseuds/thisstableground
Summary: Three perspectives on a weekend spent together.[August 2017]





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curiouswildflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouswildflower/gifts).



> for maeflowerpetunia, because we were both craving some straight up ot3 fluff and she wrote me [ this ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11378520/chapters/25475808) wonderful, soul-healing vacation fic. so i decided since we got a weekend away from her, here's a weekend at home from me. set about six weeks into the trio dating. not a panic attack to be found, for once!
> 
> this chapter has drunkenness in it, if that bothers anyone, but its the happy kind. also talk of drunk consent, but only in that theyre clearly laying out their boundaries on the matter, because the secret fourth member of this ship is healthy happy communication.

“Friday, it’s Friday, ¡es viernes!” Usnavi belts out as soon as he opens his front door. Vanessa was working from home - well, from Usnavi’s place - today, and Ruben was on a half-day at the college, so they’re both already here waiting for him, and he’s taking two whole days off for the first time since they started dating about six weeks ago, and he is so, so ready for it. “Comienza la fiesta, mis queridos, Usnavi De la Vega has returned to you! I am the party and the party is me!”

He immediately takes his shirt off. If Vanessa always gets to take her bra off the second she gets home he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t be comfortable too.

“Can you at least wait till you’re in the living room to turn this place into America's noisiest nudist colony?”Vanessasays, swinging out of the kitchen into the hallway with one hand holding the doorframe and her hair flying.

“Nips out for the weekend!” Usnavi yells in response, flinging his shirt in the air. “Yo, where’s my kiss? And my Ruben?’

“No shirt, no service,” she says, coming over to give him a brief but enthusiastic kiss anyway. “Ruben’s in the bathroom.”

Usnavi whirls to face the bathroom door and slaps the flat of his hand against it. There’s a surprised _eep_ noise from inside.

“Ru-u-ben Mar-ca-do!” Usnavi sings. “It’s the freakin’ weeken’!”

“Don’t talk to me while I’m peeing!” Ruben shouts back.

“Dude, we’ve had conversations while I have been literally inside you.”

“Yeah, well, bathroom time is Ruben-only time.”

“Come on, Usnavi, let the man pee in peace,” says Vanessa, tugging him towards the living room. He flings himself onto the couch, which complains loudly at the weight as always. Vanessa curls herself comfortably against his chest. Usnavi rests his chin on top of her head and kicks his shoes off, sighing with relief.

Ruben comes back in, drying his hands off against his pants. “Are you only wearing one sock?”

“That’s no kind of way to greet your poor, exhausted, hard-working boyfriend,” Usnavi complains. Ruben goes pink at the word _boyfriend_ , which is exactly why Usnavi said it.“What happened to the romance, Ruben? Or at least to _hello, Usnavi,_ I know your mamá raised you with better manners than that.”

“Hello, Usnavi,” Ruben parrots, making _scoot_ motions with his hands so he can squeeze in next to them on the couch and kiss Usnavi’s cheek. “Question still stands.”

“I was running late this morning, only had time to put one on.”

“Nothing about that makes sense and I hate it more than I could ever describe,” says Ruben. Usnavi shrugs.

“Starting la fiesta with sock talk,” says Vanessa. “Kinda expected bigger things from someone who just burst in screaming _I am the party_.”

“Socks are only the beginning, mi querida _._ The things can be as big as we want. We can climb every mountain, ford every stream, _follow eeevery rainbooow —_ “ Usnavi spreads his arms wide, knocking both of them in the shoulders as he does so, and sticks his legs out for good measure, to show just how expansive the world that’s waiting for them is.

“Stop singing, you nerd, we’re tryna make plans here.”  
  
“ _How do you solve a problem like Vanessa_ ,” he sings, defiant.

She swats him and says, “I was thinking we just do poker and cheapass bodega wine for tonight, to be honest.”

“Oh, thank god,” says Usnavi, collapsing against her shoulder. “I’m fuckin’ beat. My legs would stop working before we even found a rainbow to follow.”

Vanessa leans round him to look at Ruben. “What do you say, Ruben, you feelin’ lucky today?”

“Hm?” says Ruben, distractedly. Vanessa frowns.

“You okay?”

“I wasn’t listening,” he admits. “Usnavi’s still only wearing one sock and it’s driving me insane.”

Usnavi gives a put-upon sigh and takes the sock off, then very gently lays it on top of Ruben’s head. 

“Better?” he asks, cupping Ruben’s face in both his hands and gazing soulfully into his eyes.

Vanessa says “ _ew_ , Usnavi, you’ve been wearing that all day”. Ruben gives him an unimpressed stare, slightly less effective when Usnavi squishes his cheeks up. He looks like an offended hamster. Usnavi is so happy to be home.

***

Once they’ve eaten, Vanessa and Ruben clear up dinner to leave the table free for poker while Usnavi puts his shirt back on to run down to the bodega and grab something for them to drink. He never used to bother with that until that one time he ran into Sra. Mendoza from the apartment upstairs and three of her friends in the stairwell. Sra. Mendoza is a seventy-six year old widow, with bright orange lipstick and a loud, cigarette-husky cackle that Usnavi can always hear right through his ceiling, and she had eyed his bare chest, winked at him and said that if things didn’t work out between him and that nice girl with the lovely hair then Usnavi was always welcome to come pay her a visit upstairs. Her equally elderly friends in the background had giggled and pretended to fan themselves the whole time. Haunting.

Ruben raises his eyebrows when Usnavi comes back in with a box instead of a bottle, setting it down at one end of the rectangular table .

“You get like four bottles for cheap as hell in one of these, my dude, you can judge when it’s your bodega covering the costs,” Usnavi informs him, patting the box defensively. Vanessa tips her head upside down underneath the little plastic spigot and drinks from it.

“Not judging, I’ve just not drank box wine since finishing my PhD. Nostalgia trip,” Ruben says, then adds “do you want me to pay you some for it?”

Usnavi rolls his eyes and he knows Vanessa’s doing the same. Ruben’s nearly as broke as they are after so long unemployed, but is also painfully aware of the fact that if things get desperate his family are comfortably off and can cover his back, which isn’t an option for either of them. But it’s only an eighteen dollar box of probably terrible wine that’ll definitely last them a while. It’s the kind of thing Vanessa and Usnavi have always viewed as always mostly working itself out over the long-term - I’ll get this, you’ll get something else, no need to keep track. 

Ruben, on the other hand, is so anxiously precise about balance and about fairness, though only ever as it applies to himself. “How much was it? I think I have ten dollars on me, hang on, where’s my—“

Vanessa interrupts him patting his pockets down for his wallet by guiding him towards the box and then gently pushing his head so he bends down to a level with it.

“Vanessa, what—“ he says, and she points sternly at the box wine. Ruben gets it and obediently fixes his mouth around the spigot, looking up at her.

“Shut the fuck up about money and suckle upon the teat of this wine box,” she instructs as she pushes the button, and Ruben dissolves into laughter, which is a problem because Vanessa’s still got her finger pressed down.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Usnavi tells him, while Ruben makes dismayed, alcohol-soaked noises.

“At least you went for white,” Vanessa says to Usnavi. “Don’t want him ruining his cute little sweater by spitting red wine all over it because he doesn’t know how to swallow like a normal person.”

“Definitely never been accused of _that_ before,” says Ruben, looking up from wiping his face on his sweater to do a suggestive eyebrow-jump at Usnavi. Usnavi winks back at him, fires off double finger-guns.

***

They’re around the table with Ruben in a fresh sweater and Vanessa shuffling cards. Usnavi watches Ruben stacking his chips in front of himself, lining them all up perfect and neat.

“You any good at poker, Ruben? Vanessa’s some kind of magician so I never get the chance to win.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely why,” snorts Vanessa. “Usnavi just sucks at it.”

“Slander!” he exclaims. “Maybe I’m actually just _letting_ you win because you get mad competitive and knock people’s chips all over the floor like a child when you lose."

“That was an _accident_ and you know as well as I do that Benny was cheating anyway.”

Usnavi gives Ruben a knowing, tragic look.

“I know how it works in theory,” says Ruben.

“Oh, you’ve never played?” asks Usnavi hopefully. 

“Well, it’s a mixture of luck, lying, and reading people’s body language. It’s basically like Ruben kryptonite.”

“At least I might stand a chance, then,” Usnavi says.

***

“Oh, what the fuck!”  
  
“Hand it over, De la Vega!” Ruben demands triumphantly. Turns out he’s not all that bad at poker, the bastard. Or Usnavi’s just _really_ bad at it, which is also possible. He’s not actually entirely sure he understands the rules despite having played several times before, and apparently poker isn’t one of those things you can win through sheer enthusiasm. Can’t even blame it on the wine yet, though the growing indistinct warmth in his brain definitely isn’t helping.

Usnavi whines, reluctantly pushing the last of his chips over the table and downing the last of his drink.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, Ruben. May the best woman win,” says Vanessa, smirking.

“That’s cute,” says Ruben. “Don’t get cocky, kid.”

“Am I out of the game then?” Usnavi asks, despondent. Much as he’s weirdly into watching Vanessa and Ruben smack-talk each other, he’s really not got the attention span to sit around uninvolved for any amount of time.

Ruben takes pity on him. “No, we’re not gonna play while you just do nothing,” he says. “Vanessa will give you some of her chips.”

“I absolutely will not,” says Vanessa. “These are mine. Give him some of yours if you’re feeling so generous.”

“But you have more than me.”

“I know I do,” she says, slowly like he might not understand it. “That’s because I’m winning. If I give Usnavi my chips then we won’t be able to see how much I am winning. Do you see my problem?”

A devious look wanders across Ruben's face. “Well, we could always just bet with something else,” he suggests.

It takes a moment to figure out what he means, but once he does Usnavi’s a million per cent on board. “Oh, hell yeah, strip poker!”

“You just want Usnavi to take his shirt off again,” Vanessa accuses. “But! Same. I’m in.”

“Like I need an excuse,” says Usnavi, shoving his cards over to Vanessa and holding his glass out so that Ruben can refill it. “Anyway, I was just rusty that last round. Now I’m back in the swing of it I’ma kick your asses, you’ll see."

***

“I can’t help but feel like you guys planned this,” says Usnavi, thumbs tucked into the waistband of his boxers.

“I can’t help but feel like you should’ve seen this coming,” says Vanessa. She’s only taken off her socks, somehow still the most covered despite having started off with the least amount of clothes. Ruben’s barefoot - he refused to only take one sock off at a time - and in his boxer-briefs andsweater.

Usnavi doesn’t even have his hat on any more. “I’m pretty sure you’re both cheating somehow.”

“Stop stalling, take ‘em off,” says Ruben. Vanessa nods agreement.

“Alright, you fuckin’ vultures,” Usnavi grumbles, standing up and slipping his boxers off his legs. Ruben whistles appreciatively. Usnavi strikes a sarcastic model pose and then sits down with his arms folded. “I can’t believe I’m out again.”

“Do you want us to stop playing? Or start over?” Vanessa asks.

“Nah,” he says.He’ll complain, but honestly there’s something about being here completely naked while they’re still pretty much dressed that he’s definitely enjoying. He’s happy to let it play out. His dick stirs and Vanessa’s gaze flickers downward almost unnoticeable. Casually, Usnavi shifts to an even more open, revealing posture. “I’ll just help one of you.”

“You can help Vanessa,” says Ruben quickly. “I want to actually win this.”

That little shit. “No,” says Usnavi, grinning at Ruben. “No, I think I’m gonna help you.”

He stands, slow and sinuous, and Ruben says “fuck.” Usnavi deposits himself in Ruben’s lap, glances over his cards, leans in with his lips to Ruben’s ear and whispers “so whatcha gonna do, then?”

“Nhghhh,” says Ruben.  It takes him a very long time to make his decision with Usnavi nipping at his ear and grinding his bare ass down against him.

“Okay,” Usnavi says brightly, when Ruben’s sweater comes off as penalty for losing the round. “Time to help Vanessa, now.”  
  
He goes and sprawls across Vanessa’s lap, but she plays her turn coolly despite him pressing wet, hot kisses along her jawline, and when it’s Ruben’s go she fixes her eyes on him and takes Usnavi’s dick in her hand. He groans without meaning to.

“What’s your play, Marcado?”

“I, um, I’m gonna, um —“ says Ruben, staring hard at his cards but his eyes keep wandering back to Vanessa, slowly and languidly stroking Usnavi, who rocks up into it blissfully. “Uh, I’m gonna raise.”

Vanessa pinches Usnavi’s nipple and he moans, on purpose this time, making sure to be unnecessarily loud. Ruben fumbles and drops his cards: he’s got nothing.

“I think you might be bluffing,” Vanessa says. “Might as well pay up.” Ruben scowls at her and pulls his t-shirt off.

“This is definitely not in the rules,” he says. “Usnavi, come back here and help me again.”

“Okay,” he agrees, and Ruben stands to meet him on his side of the table while Vanessa studies her cards. He actually lifts Usnavi up, which is awesome and Usnavi is _all_ about feeling small enough to be lifted, even if technically Ruben's half-supporting Usnavi's weight on the table. Usnavi tightens his legs around Ruben’s waist and gasps as Ruben bites at his collarbone and smooths his hands down Usnavi’s chest and lets Usnavi rub up against him. 

“Your move, Vanessa,” Ruben says.  It’s beyond obvious that Usnavi’s mostly being used as a psyche-out between the two of them, but man, he does not mind that at all.

“Um,” Vanessa says, and they both turn to stare at her. There’s a flush across her cheeks and the cards are held loose in her hands as she watches them. “No, shut up,” she says, clearly reading the delighted looks on their faces: getting Vanessa visibly flustered is always a major victory.

Ruben licks a long, deliberate stripe up Usnavi’s neck and Vanessa says “oh, fuck poker” and throws her cards into the air with a flourish.

***

They’ve been drinking the whole time they were playing so they’re way too easily distracted and silly for things to go very far, but the game ends up entirely abandoned anyway and the three of them end up sat on the floor with their backs leaning against the kitchen cabinets, Usnavi’s skin tingling happily from a half hour or so of aimless, exploratory groping and messy makeouts.

“So who won?” Vanessa asks, because of course she does, passing Ruben her glass as he kneels up to refill off the wine box sat on the table. She’s just put on Ruben’s sweater. Usnavi can’t quite wrap his head around what, exactly, that does for him: it’s not exactly arousal but he’s definitely feeling some kind of way about it, like someone’s just tipped warm water all over his abdomen.

“I did,” says Ruben, passing Vanessa’s glass back down. She takes it, shaking her head.

“I had the most chips when we stopped playing, and the most clothes,” she argues.  
  
“Yeah, but you forfeit the game. That means I won by default.”  
  
“Oh, by default, but that’s not a real victory, is it? There’s no skill in winning by _default_.”

“There’s no skill in winning by playing dirty either, and you definitely started that.”  
  
“No, _Usnavi_ started that, he’s the one who was being naked everywhere.”

“Pretty sure I won, anyway,” says Usnavi, wriggling back into his boxers. There’s a line of hickeys blooming up either of his thighs, each side from a different mouth, and a warm wine-buzz in his veins and the night’s still young, the weekend still only just beginning. Usnavi’s feeling good. “Hey, is it unhygienic to fuck in a kitchen, do you think? Just for future reference, I mean.”

“It’s only unhygienic if you tell anyone else about it,” is Vanessa’s conclusion.

“It’s all wipe-clean surfaces, which is a plus,” Ruben points out. He shakes the box of wine experimentally to see how much is left. “We’ve still got a long way to go with this one, guys.”

“We’re not gonna drink that whole thing between us in one night,” Usnavi says.

“Sounds like a challenge,” comments Vanessa. “Time to step up, Usnavi.”

“Aite,” he says, “where’s my glass?”. As he kneels trying to scan the tabletop, Vanessa grabs him round the waist then dips him so he’s pretty much directly under the spigot of the box.

“Glasses are for cowards,” she proclaims. Ruben hovers his thumb over the button, Usnavi opens his mouth, and that’s about the last thing he remembers properly.

***

They definitely don’t drink the whole thing, but they make a good shot at it. The rest of the night is lost to blurs with occasional clear points surfacing, such as:

Ruben, sat at the table in his boxers and Usnavi’s red shirt, his face all tense in concentration. His tongue is actually poking out a little. Usnavi discreetly takes a picture.

“Come on, Marcado,” Ruben mutters to himself. “Keep it together. Get your head in the game. Other…motivational phrases?”

“We maybe shouldn’t have left him in charge of the wine box,” says Vanessa.

“Leave him be, he’s enjoying himself,” says Usnavi.

“YOU _MOTHERFUCKER_ ,” shouts Ruben as he knocks his house of cards over at the third triangle again.

***

Usnavi, frantically waving a dishtowel to try and disperse some of the smoke in the kitchen before it sets the detector off, while Ruben raises questioning eyebrows at Vanessa and the tray of chicken nuggets she’d been attempting to make. They’re burnt dark-brown and hard on the outside, still semi frozen in the middle.

“I was hungry _now_ so I turned the heat all the way up to make it go faster,” she explains.

“That’s not how cooking works,” says Ruben.

“You don’t know that!” Vanessa says defensively. “Nobody _really_ knows how cooking works! You just put stuff on a heat and then food happens!"

“I _do_ know that, I’m literally a scientist! And you cook really well all the time so I know you know that too!

“They’re probably still okay to eat though, right?” Usnavi interjects desperately. He’s _really_  snacky.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” says Vanessa at the same time Ruben says “absolutely not”, and then they both stare at him expectantly.

Usnavi’s loyalties are torn. This is a critical juncture. The future of their relationship might lie within this decision.

“What if I just leave the middle and eat the burnt outside bits? They’re _definitely_ done.”

Ruben thinks about it. “Yeah, that’s probably fine,” he decides.

***

Vanessa, crowding him into a corner while Ruben’s getting a glass of water and saying seriously “I have words to say to you.”  
  
“Hit me with it,” says Usnavi. She looks around like she’s checking for eavesdroppers and leans in right up close to his ear.  
  
“I think Usnavi is super cute,” she whispers. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“But I’m Usnavi,” he says. Ruben comes back in, opening the door clumsily and spilling water down his chest. Vanessa looks between them.

“Shit!” she says, and runs out of the room.

“We’ve been dating for two years!” he shouts after her.

***

Vanessa singing “Ninaaaa” into her cellphone on a long clear note.

“Ninaaaaaa,” Usnavi joins in, and then to his surprise Ruben finishes out the harmony and they hold the note until Vanessa makes an _and stop!_ motion with her hand.

“Holy shit, Ruben can _sing_!” Usnavi says, grabbing Ruben by the head in his excitement. Ruben says “aaaghgh” and then “hi, Nina! It’s me, Ruben!”

“Hi, Ruben,” Nina’s voice comes through on loudspeaker, sounding amused. “I take it you’re all having a good night, then.”

“I miss you, Nina! I haven’t seen you since a whole two days ago!” Vanessa shouts. “Next time we’re inviting you!”

“Be the platonic fourth wheel on our polyamorous truck of love!” Usnavi yells.

“You guys are adorable, but you realise you don’t need to yell for me to hear you? The phone sort of does that for you.”  
  
“ _Rosario_.”  
  
“García.” A fake sigh. “Ugh, fine, I miss you too, _I guess_. We’ll hang out after you have your big weekend together, okay? What have you been up to?”

“We played poker.”  
  
“I probably don’t need to ask who won,” says Nina. “But did Usnavi lose as badly as always now you’ve got a player three?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, he incredibly lost,” says Ruben. “Except that means that in the end all of us won, really, if you think about it, really.”

“Uh…okay?”  


“He means because I was naked!” Usnavi says, helpfully. “And it was _awesome_.”

“Please never call me again, thanks,” says Nina, hanging up.

***

The early hours hit them sitting in the living room, playing a lazy version of poker. Vanessa seems almost sober again now: she’s pretty good at handling her drink, more used to partying than either of the other two. Ruben is extremely _not_ sober, and somehow seems to just be getting drunker despite the fact they hid the wine box about an hour ago and keep plying him with glasses of water. Usnavi gets the impression Ruben doesn’t let loose like this very often. There’s something searingly endearing about his wide-eyed bumbling and babbling. He keeps leaning over to them with fumbling fingers to bestow innocent, careful touches in odd places like tracing down the bridge of Vanessa’s nose or along the arch of Usnavi’s eyebrows.

Usnavi’s somewhere in between the two of them, his thoughts clearer than earlier but his vision swimming more. Maybe just sleepy. There’s a quietness to this new game after the gleeful chaos of everything before. They’re not playing for chips or clothes right now but for knowledge: from childhood dreams to secret fantasies. After a lifetime in the same spaces and the length of their relationship there’s not so much to be revealed between Usnavi and Vanessa, but old stories shine in a new light when received under Ruben’s rapt, open-mouthed attention. 

And there’s a lot to learn about him. There’s always been a lot to learn about Ruben, of course, and when he starts slurring a little too much Usnavi and Vanessa meet eyes and agree silently that this should be the last round, so as not to trick information out of him when he might not want to reveal it and because the chances of topics turning towards things that would put a downer on a really lovely night only increase the longer they play, but what he’s saying right now isn’t something that comes as much of a surprise, even if it’s definitely something to hear it put into words so frankly. Ruben’s into praise in a major way, he’s confessing, he’s into toys and being held down and being fucked until he cries, getting on his knees and letting someone else tell him what needs to be done. He’s into submitting to someone else’s words and being told that he’s done well when he obeys.

“God _damn_ ,’ Usnavi breathes. He’s too wasted to be properly turned on, and there’s some stuff in Ruben’s quiet, meandering torrent of explanation that he really doesn’t think he wants to try, but _fuck_ if it isn’t hot hearing Ruben talk like that.

Vanessa leans in and kisses Ruben hard. “Well then, that’s a lot of things to look forward to,” she says, sounding a little shocked. Ruben looks amazed.

“Wait, you mean you don’t think it’s weird? You mean we can do it?” he asks. Usnavi remembers that outside of what they’ve been doing together, Ruben’s pretty much never had chance to put _anything_ into practice. Probably he thought a lot of these fantasies would stay fantasies forever. 

“Well, I mean, we’d have to talk it over. But no, you’re not weird, not for any of it, and yeah, we can try things so long as everyone agrees on it. You know me, always up for something new,” says Vanessa. Ruben stands up like he’s ready to drag them to bed immediately.

“We’re not doing it now," Usnavi quickly clarifies, and Ruben deflates.

“But—“

“No,” Vanessa says, firmly. “He’s right. If we’re gonna do something new, we discuss it properly first, and it’s _definitely_ not something we’re doing while you’re drunk.”

“I did _not_ drunk,” Ruben objects, sort of nonsensically but Usnavi gets what he’s trying to say even if he’s clearly lying. He’s leaning heavily to the side. It’s making Usnavi dizzy: he tilts his head to match Ruben’s angle but then the rest of the room is out of whack, so he just closes his eyes and cuddles into Vanessa instead. 

“Just keepin’ you safe, hermoso _,”_ he says. “And us, too. Nobody sober in this room. Gotta be careful.”

Not that Usnavi and Vanessa have never had drunk sex before, but that’s different. They’ve talked sober about it and come to agreed limits, they’ve known each other for long enough that they know when those limits are approaching by instinct. This is the first time they’ve even seen Ruben anything more than tipsy, and Usnavi’s not as far gone but he’s well past the level where he’d be comfortable with anyone doing anything to him either. They’re definitely not introducing new kinks into the mix in this state.

Ruben drapes himself over Usnavi’s lap like a blanket and reaches one hand out to Vanessa, who takes it and plays idly with Ruben’s fingers, moving them about and bending them at each knuckle one by one. He looks relieved now instead of disappointed, like they passed a test he didn’t realise he was giving them. 

“Okay then. Cool. Good plan, good plan, good plan,” he says, with a big bright smile. “You guys are so smart. We can wait and then everyone can be happy. I’m gonna go sit on the floor now.”

He does that and then some, rolling off Usnavi’s lap to lie facedown and spread out like a starfish. “Someone lay on top of me,” he demands.

“Kinda bossy for a guy who just said he was a major sub,” says Vanessa.  


“It would make me happy?” he tries, which is the most unsubtle kind of manipulation Usnavi’s ever heard but it works like a charm anyway, because Usnavi would do anything to see Ruben happy. He drops to the floor beside Ruben then lies out on top of him, matching the spread of his limbs so the planes of their bodies are all aligned. Ruben makes a pleased little noise like a kitten. Usnavi kisses the top of his head then wriggles down a bit so he can rest his forehead between Ruben’s shoulderblades.

“You’re so cute,” Usnavi says against Ruben’s spine.

“Where’s Vanessa?” Ruben asks. “Make her be here. Tell her I’m so cute and she’ll want to come back. I miss Vanessa.”

“I’m like two foot away from you, Captain Amnesia,” she says.

“ _Doctor_ Amnesia,” Usnavi corrects her. “PhD.”

“Come lie down,” Ruben implores. “You can lay on us too, if you like. You’re only small.”

“Usnavi sandwich,” Usnavi says.

“So delicious,” adds Ruben.

“Let’s not end the night by crushing Ruben to death, maybe,” Vanessa says. She comes and lies down next to them instead, buries her hand in Ruben’s hair to scratch lightly at his scalp.

“Okay. Usnavi on Ruben toast then,” Ruben acquiesces, sounding drowsy and blissed out. “Vanessa can be the side salad.”

“No, that’s boring,” she says. “I wanna be ice cream.”

“You’re too hot to be ice cream,” Ruben says, and awkwardly tries to move his hand behind himself to high-five Usnavi but just ends up batting uselessly at the air. “Sssh,” he says, though nobody’s talking. “Quiet, now.”

Usnavi turns his head so he can see Vanessa, reaches out to press a thumb to the corner of her mouth. She smiles at him, still softly scratching at Ruben’s head. They watch each other and nobody speaks while Ruben’s breathing goes slow and deep, Vanessa’s image wavering unsteady in Usnavi’s vision from the tiredness and alcohol.

“Is he asleep?” Usnavi whispers after a while. 

Vanessa leans round to check and then nods. Usnavi carefully pushes himself up.

“We’d better get him to bed. Can’t have him sleeping on the floor at his age, can we?” Vanessa says.

“Heard that, you jerk,” Ruben mumbles. “M’not sleeping. And I’m not age. Not old. Whatever.”

“Bedtime anyway, though?”

“‘kay,” he says, rolling onto his back then looking like he’s trying to remember what comes next.

“You need me to carry you?” Usnavi asks.

“Nah. But, help?” Ruben reaches his arms up and they both pull him to his feet. Usnavi basically ends up carrying him anyway, one shoulder braced underneath Ruben’s arm. Vanessa goes ahead to open the door for them. Ruben is generally floppy and uncooperative and keeps licking Usnavi’s neck in a way that’s not so much sexy as it is very saliva-y.

“Ew, stop it, you lunatic. You’re like the world’s dampest vampire.”

“Dampire,” says Ruben, and laughs to himself all the way to the bedroom, where Usnavi drops him ungracefully on the bed.

“You wanna sleep like this?” Vanessa asks, indicating Ruben's open, borrowed shirt and his bare chest beneath.“Or you can just take it off, or wear something else.” Ruben considers it. 

“T-shirt, please? he asks. Usnavi passes one of his over from the drawer and Ruben attempts to get into it, but he gets lost halfway through. 

“I am having a situation,” he declares.

Vanessa giggles and straightens the shirt, tugging it down so that Ruben finally emerges fluffy haired and making a scrunched-up happy face in her general direction. “You’re the best,” he informs her, and then gently tips sideways and is completely out as soon as he’s horizontal.

“Oh, Ruben,” says Usnavi, his heart too full. Vanessa shakes her head next to him.

“Can you believe he lets us see him like this?” she says, reverently.

“No, but pretty much everything about all of this is unbelievable all the time,” he answers. “I’m so lucky. I love you.”

“I love you so much,” she says, and he feels himself burning at the sheer amount of feeling behind it. “Your face is so stupid right now, by the way, I love it. I love you.”

She’s maybe not as sober as she’s been pretending to be. “I love you,” she repeats.

“See what I mean? That’s still unbelievable too.”

“No. I don’t think it is, really,” says Vanessa. They lie down, one on either side of Ruben - possibly it would be better for him to be at the edge, because they don’t know if he’s a throw-up kind of drunk, but he seems to have made the decision to sleep right in the middle of the bed and neither of them want to wake him again to make him move.

“You good?” Usnavi asks Vanessa. She’s never seemed to mind helping put him to bed the rare occasion he’s too wasted to do it himself, and probably she doesn’t mind with Ruben either, but Usnavi knows all about her mom and so he likes to check she’s not feeling weird about it. Vanessa just cuddles closer against Ruben so her arms can reach round him and hold Usnavi too.

“I’m very good,’ she says. “You good?"

“Yep, I’m good.”

“Am _I_ good?” Ruben pipes up from between them. Vanessa starts laughing.

“You’re hella good, Ruben,” she reassures him. 

“Yaaaaay,” he says, and goes back to sleep. Vanessa yawns, interlaces her fingers with Usnavi’s and soon she’s off too. Usnavi wants to join them. His eyelids are heavy and his sight is wobbly, and he can feel the threat of a hangover pressing in, but it’s impossible to let himself close his eyes with both of them right there next to him, not when he can lie here and watch them breathe in tandem, illuminated in the dim orange-grey glow of the streetlights creeping through his broken blinds, as dark as it ever gets in the city on a night that still feels like it might last forever.


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: a hungover saturday! just a reminder, because i do the ages different to canon and it sort of comes up a bit in this chapter, at this point Vanessa is 24, Usnavi is 25, Ruben is 29.]

Vanessa wakes up slow, letting Saturday filter in whenever it’s ready to. There’s a heavy feeling to the air, the damp oppressiveness of an incoming summer shower. There’s the sleepy hum of a good night of memories re-structuring themselves in the face of morning sobriety. There’s a patch of drool on her shoulder where Ruben has been laying. Gross. She shifts him off her as gently as possible.

Turning over, she can see Usnavi’s digital clock blinking that it’s nearly 10am at her. She’s got a hideously dry mouth and seriously needs to pee all at once, so she’s probably gonna have to get up. Experimentally half-sitting doesn’t send any nausea through her so she must’ve drank enough water to keep the worst of the hangover at bay as usual. Party Time Vanessa always does Morning Vanessa a solid like that. It’s definitely appreciated.

She swings her legs over so she’s sitting with her feet flat on the floor, but doesn’t stand up just yet: it’s not often she’s awake before them to see them like this. It’s only because of the late night they spent wasted, she knows, but still she’s glad they’re sleeping in for once in both their lives. Ruben rolls into the gap she’s left behind, and Usnavi stirs discontentedly, frowning and patting his hand into the now-empty space beside him. 

There’s a thousand things she could whisper aloud to them now, but she’s savvy enough to know they’d wake up to hear the most embarrassing part, so she settles for just thinking and looking before she eventually has to give in and head to the bathroom. She swishes some mouthwash after she washes her hands, and on her way back to Usnavi’s room detours past the kitchen to down a big glass of water then refill it. She grabs some painkillers from the drawer of random useful crap near the sink while she’s there.

Back in his room, Usnavi has flung an his arm over his eyes.

“Is that you, Death?” he asks hoarsely, at the sound of the bedroom door.

“More like an angel,” she says, dropping the sleeve of pills onto his chest and holding out the water to him. He takes it gratefully, gulping down half the glass and shuddering like he always does when he has to swallow pills, and is effusive in praising her kindness.

“Shush,” she says, “Ruben’s still sleeping.” She crawls up next to him in bed and they talk low and lazy, Usnavi’s body relaxing a little once the painkillers kick in.

“Last night was fun,” he says.

“Mmhm,” says Vanessa. 

“Drunk Ruben is adorable.”

“He’s so much like you sometimes,” she says, and feels herself blush at the unintended implication that yes, both Ruben and Usnavi are adorable. She remembers vaguely flashes of their hands on her yesterday, fingers against her nose or her cheek or her mouth, no hidden intent but to know her face by touch. Ruben’s not really a second Usnavi like she said when she first met him, but they occupy their space the world in the same painfully genuine way. It’s unreal how real they both are.

“Huh,” says Usnavi, sounding surprised.

“Hm?” she asks.

“It’s just I always think of him as being really similar to you.”

“Huh,” says Vanessa. They both look at Ruben, or what can be seen of him, which is mostly a curled-up lump in the sheets and a mess of truly impressive bedhead.

“I guess really he’s mostly just similar to Ruben,” Usnavi decides, and Vanessa concurs.

“I like him a lot,” she says.

“Same.”

They lie Vanessa half on top of Usnavi listening to Ruben breathe for a while, Usnavi stroking Vanessa’s back. At first it’s the flat of his hand like he’s petting a cat or smoothing out bedsheets, but then his palm lifts and he’s moving just his fingertips in a rhythm she knows so well, skating all the way up to the top of her spine then pausing for just a second like the moment of suspension on a swingset at the apex before dropping back down. She shivers, and kisses him, her tongue exploring him slowly. He tastes like a hangover under the peppermint lingering in her own mouth, but that’s okay.

When she moves to lay on him proper she can feel him getting hard against her stomach, and something in her responds with the thrill that turns things heavier, makes her sit up and grind herself against him till he can’t help himself but cry out. Vanessa puts her hand over his mouth and he looks up at her with his dark lovely eyes and doesn’t stop moaning, muffled but still noisy.

“Sssh,” she reproaches, taking her hand off his mouth to tap his lips. “Control yourself.”

“Can’t,” says Usnavi, breathless. “You’re just too much. I’m only human.”

Ruben says “I’m awake anyway, you know.”

“Oh!” says Usnavi. “Hey, there.”

“Aite, Ruben. Did Usnavi disturb you?” She rolls her hips and Usnavi goes _ah—!_ , instinctively trying to push himself up inside her even though they’re both still wearing underwear.

“Yeah, but that’s fine,” Ruben says. “Don’t hold back on my account. Please.”

His voice sounds raspy and indistinct like he’s only half-conscious but when Vanessa skims a glance across him she can see a subtle movement under the sheets that suggests he’s touching himself. She wonders how long he’s been awake for, watching the two of them.

Realising they’re looking at him, Ruben kicks the sheet off himself, rubs across the front of his boxers then slides his hand inside. Vanessa wants to see him properly, doesn’t ask him yet. Remember everything he was telling them he wanted last night. There’s so much of Ruben to be explored. There’s time enough to get there eventually.

When she kisses Usnavi again she makes sure to do it showy, now they’ve got an audience, but pretty soon she just loses herself to the feel of it instead and assumes it probably still looks awesome. At some point Usnavi gives a shuddering laugh into her mouth and when she leans back to look at him he nods over at Ruben, who still has his hand in his underwear but has fallen back asleep.

It’s cute, somehow.

She shakes her head with a giggle and focuses back on Usnavi, riding him so his length is pressed against her clit, one of her favorite ways to get him worked up. There’s tingles starting to build in her toes and her belly and her heart when suddenly Usnavi’s whole body stiffens underneath her then he melts into relaxation with a sigh, a sheepish look on his face.

“Did you just come?” she asks, even though she knows he has from the wetness between her legs that isn’t her own.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t know I was gonna. See what you do to me?”

She kisses him to show she doesn’t mind and he smiles and says “lemme get you”, slipping his hand inside her soaked underwear.

Usnavi’s hands are quick and sure from familiarity. He knows the best way to curl his fingers inside her, the right amount of pressure to use, knows when to slow down and when to speed up. She doesn’t bother to quiet the noises she’s making, lets herself gasp out _Usnavi, Usnavi_ over and over whenever he hits the right spot. Once, Vanessa had thought it must be boring to be with the same boy over and over, but he only seems to get better the more they know each other. She never gets tired of saying his name.

Not that anyone would really call their sex life boring anyway, if they knew how things were now. She can see Ruben lift his head with a confused expression just before she screws her eyes shut as a short, sharp, powerful orgasm overtakes her.

“Oh. Did I miss everything?” she hears Ruben asking as she comes down from the high.

“Kinda,” says Usnavi, drawing his fingers out of her and sucking them clean absent-mindedly. “Want me to help with that?”, indicating at Ruben’s dick with his spit-damp fingers.

“Maybe later,” says Ruben. “Moment’s passed.”

“How’s your head this morning, party animal?” Vanessa asks, standing to remove her underwear and passing over the painkillers and water to Ruben while she’s up. Usnavi takes the opportunity to take his own wet boxers off, cleaning up hastily with a tissue before they get back into bed, Ruben back in the middle again.

“Surprisingly still attached,” says Ruben, but he pops two of the pills out of the blister packaging anyway and dry-swallows them before he carefully sips the water. “I’m guessing I’ve got you guys to thank for the fact that I woke up in a bed, because I do _not_ remember getting here.”

“Yup. Bed and jammies and proper hydration, courtesy of your wonderful partners,” says Vanessa.

“You’re too good to me,” Ruben says, and Vanessa notes that it’s only slow progress but more and more he sounds pleased and grateful when he says that, instead of tense like he’s waiting for them to realise he’s right and take themselves away from him. She likes that he’s already learning he deserves to be looked after. “Did I make an idiot of myself?”

“Yes, but a very sweet idiot.”

“That’s fine then,” he says, “I know that’s your type.”

Usnavi makes an offended noise. Ruben grins unapologetically at him.

“I’m going to shower,” Vanessa says. “You boys be nice to each other while I’m gone, you hear me?”

They hear her loud and clear, apparently: she comes back to find Ruben sitting at the edge of the bed and Usnavi down on his knees. She remembers telling him once he’d look good doing this, back when Ruben was just a dirty little fantasy and not something so much more. It’s gratifying that she was right. 

“Don’t mind me,” she says when Ruben looks over at her. Usnavi stays focused on what he’s doing. Vanessa leans against the wall, finger-combing through her wet, tangled hair, observing for the first time instead of right in the middle of things. The dynamic change without her input is interesting. 

It took a while for her and Usnavi to settle into something that worked in the bedroom when they started seeing each other - he was so goddamn nervous, not quite inexperienced in the same way Ruben is, but so disbelieving that _a girl like you could ever be with a guy like me, Vanessa, it’s just crazy, I can’t get my head around it_ that made his hands clumsy and uncertain when he touched her. He still tells her at least once a week that his mind is blown just at the idea that they’re dating, but he’s learnt to be confident that she loves him and wants him, and when it’s all three of them he feeds off that self-assurance.

Now, with just Ruben, the only guy he’s ever been with, his movements are a sweetly nostalgic reminder of Usnavi from those early days, unsure but eager and always ready to learn. She trusts Ruben to take care of her boy even when he’s vulnerable like this. She trusts Ruben to take care of both of them. 

Usnavi gags a little as he tries to take more than he can handle.

“Relax,” Ruben says quietly, pressing his thumb lightly to the point where Usnavi’s jaw hinges just by his ear, then trailing his fingers down Usnavi’s throat with a feather touch. “I’ve told you, it wont work if you’re all tense here. It should feel open, like how it does if you’re singing properly.”

Usnavi taps his fingers on Rubens thigh in acknowledgement, pulls off to nuzzle against him while he catches his breath. The advice must’ve made sense of it because when he puts his mouth on Ruben again he gets a good couple of inches further down, and Ruben closes his eyes tight.

“Fuck,” he says. “Yeah, that’s it, you got it, Usnavi,“ and Usnavi responds enthusiastically, bobbing his head up and down, his cheeks hollowing in a way that makes the part of Vanessa’s brain that deals with her work - the part full of models and composition and photography - start sparkling. Ruben’s head falls back and he bites his lip, caressing Usnavi’s hair. The two of them like this are almost art, made to be preserved in pictures forever. She’ll have to ask if she can capture them on camera some day.

“You feel so good,” Ruben groans. “ _God_ , you feel so good, I’m - I’m gonna come. You should - _fuck_ \- stop if you don’t wanna-“ but when Ruben’s breath hitches and his legs squeeze involuntarily around Usnavi, Usnavi keeps going, his throat working as he swallows.

“Christ,” says Ruben. 

Vanessa twists her hair into a bun so that it doesn’t drip all over them, kisses Ruben, kisses Usnavi and tastes Ruben on his tongue, doesn’t say aloud how many feelings she has about that because she wouldn’t even know where to begin.

***

Vanessa makes bagels while Usnavi showers and Usnavi makes coffee once he’s done and Ruben makes notes in the brown leather notebook he carries around everywhere. Neither of them ever know what he writes in there. He smiles at the page before he closes the notebook and smiles at Vanessa when she puts a plate in front of him, then he lifts the top of his bagel and scrapes off half the cream cheese with his knife but doesn’t comment on it.

“So what’s our Saturday shaping up to be, mis queridos?” Usnavi asks, bringing the coffee round and falling heavily into his chair. It’s possible that Usnavi has never just sat down like a normal person. Vanessa can’t remember ever seeing it happen. He sort of flings himself everywhere. It's a wonder all his furniture hasn't fallen apart under the stress.

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to show us the world, shining shimmering splendid, and all that. What were _you_ thinking?”

“I _had_ been thinking like, get the train, find a free day at a gallery or museum or something, spend the day broadening our minds —“ Vanessa and Ruben both make _nah_ sounds “—yeah, that’s what I’m feeling too. Air’s too sticky to get trains and I don’t think I have enough braincells to deal with art today. Also, I might throw up if I have to deal with the smell of sweaty Saturday crowds in a subway car right now.”

“We could just go to the park,” Vanessa suggests.

“It’s gonna rain like, any minute,” says Usnavi, and she shrugs.

“So that means less people,” says Ruben. “It’ll still be warm as hell out. and it’s close to home if any of us needs to come back, and we don’t really need to actually _do_ anything to have a good day. I’m up for it.”

“Cool, says Usnavi. “Same. Okay, that’s the plan! Ruben, you wanna take a shower then we head out?”

“Yeah,” says Ruben, then “wait, fuck, both the sweaters I bought with me I spilt wine on. And I only had the one t-shirt to wear underneath too.”

“Just wear one of them anyway,” says Vanessa. “We ain’t judging.”

“Uh, actually, no offence, Ruben, but if I have to sit around with you smellin’ like old alcohol all day I will _definitely_ throw up,” says Usnavi, looking slightly queasy.

“I can run back to my place and get —“

“Just borrow something off of me,” says Usnavi. “There’s sweaters in the bottom drawer probably. I don't have like, a system for clothes storage. Poke around till you find one.”

Ruben goes to shower and comes out wearing his own jeans, one of Usnavi’s t-shirts, and a fiercely defiant look on his face that lets them know this is definitely his outfit for the day. It makes sense to pick this moment, since the park’s gonna be basically empty and it’s definitely too humid for layers, but they hadn’t seen it coming and it takes them a minute to say anything.

“Goddamn, but you look good in my clothes,” says Usnavi, and Ruben looks relieved that they’re all going to ignore the obvious thing here.

Vanessa bends her head over her bag, pretending to check she’s got everything while her hair curtains around her face. They don’t need to see that her eyes have filled with tears.

***

The park is almost empty, just a few dogwalkers here and there, and even though the air’s still heavy the rain that’s just starting feels good, and it seems to clear away the lingering hangover effects. It’s empty enough that they’re happy to walk hand-in-hand-in-hand without thinking about who might see them all lined up like this, Usnavi-Vanessa-Ruben.

When they pass the play area there’s no families there because of the weather, and it’s Ruben who pauses and then tugs her hand and says “let’s swing.”

They ignore the fact that all the seats are wet, they kick their legs out wild like little kids and shriek and sing, though it takes a while to get Ruben to join in on that last part - “oh, I can’t sing,” he says, but they heard him harmonise with them last night so they know that’s bullshit.

“That was like, one word, it’s not a representative sample,” he argues. Usnavi’s not having any of it.

“Chaboy got perfect pitch over here, dude, I know a singer when I hear one. My ears cannot be deceived,” he says, and Ruben gives in. He’s not got the range Vanessa does - she knows she’s got a good voice - and he’s not got the confidence Usnavi does, but his voice is quiet and sweet and smooth and it sounds right alongside theirs. When they’re breathless and their legs tire out they sit and talk about the park.

Usnavi talks about hanging out here with Benny and the other boys from school and the songs they learnt to rap to, freestyles out a verse about a day spent in the rain and looks oddly shy and surprised when they’re both impressed by it despite the fact it’s _always_ amazed Vanessa, the way Usnavi uses words even just to speak. He improvs his speech better than most people could plan theirs. He would've been amazing if he’d ever gone into politics, but he's got the wrong kind of soul for that and he'd hate all the paperwork.

Vanessa talks about coming down here on the days when she didn’t want to go to school but home was too much to handle, playing hooky with the group of semi-rebellious kids who weren’t big into formal education but weren’t too dangerous to be fun to hang out with, the stoners and the graffiti artists. 

The graffiti in the barrio is something she’s always been lowkey fascinated by, the way in some places it stays there indefinitely. Some people paint it over completely, like Usnavi and his eternal doomed mission to keep his wall clean, new taggers taking over now that Pete's channeling his artistic impulses through a tattoo apprenticeship (though nobody ever touches the grate. Even the newest wave of just learning to be wild tweenagers still remember Abuela Claudia, and besides they’d have Vanessa’s wrath to deal with if that mural ever got ruined). But in some places graffiti only gets painted over with new graffiti, half-covering the old stuff so in you can trace back through the years all in one spot, learn to recognise different artists in their work even when you didn’t know who it was that painted them.

They tell Ruben about Usnavi’s finally-settled feud with Pete, who Vanessa had always had a soft spot for and who even Usnavi admits is one of the most talented people they’ve ever had scribble across the walls of the block. Vanessa remembers whoever it was who always painted birds, in simple pretty outlines. Usnavi remembers the person who did gorgeous city skylines, of NYC or places way further out.

There’d been a year back when Vanessa was seventeen that someone had spent painting lyrics all over the barrio, some from songs that she recognised and some she didn’t, and even though there wasn’t anything to suggest the person writing had any kind of artistic talent, she’d always found something appealing in the hurried messy letters. Like someone had been listening to music while they walked and heard a line that spoke so much to them they’d had to make a note of it immediately on the first surface they could find.

“I liked the one who did all the song lyrics,” she says to Usnavi. “There was always something different every couple of weeks on the building next to yours. Used to make me smile in the mornings when I was on the way to school. You remember those?”

A weird look steals over Usnavi’s face.

“What?” she asks, and he just keeps looking at her till she realises. “ _No!_ That was _you_?”

He pulls the corner of his shirt up to hide his face like he’s embarrassed, which is answer enough.

“Oh my god, you fucking _hypocrite_ ,” she says gleefully, to hide the fact her heart’s started doing weird backflip things at the sudden realisation of how long Usnavi’s been making her happy without either of them even realising he was doing it. “After all the shit you gave Sonny about Graffiti Pete! I can’t believe you never told me.”

Usnavi peeks out from behind his shirt, his eyes sparkling. ”That was when I was eighteen—“ which always means, _that was after my parents_ “—so I was in a weird place. Had some bad energy to let out. Only Nina and Abuela ever knew about it once I stopped, I didn’t even tell Benny.”

“Well, fuck me, and here I thought I knew everything about you,” she says, astonished.

“Nah,” says Usnavi. “Always got a few surprises up my sleeve. Saving them for a rainy day, you know?” He tips his face up toward the clouded sky eyes closed to let the rain fall on it, like to indicate that today is the perfect day for secrets.

Ruben’s watching them fondly, head leaned against the chain and swinging idly without his toes leaving the ground. “I wish I’d known you both back then,” he says. 

“Eh,” says Vanessa. “I’m glad you know me now instead, to be honest. I wasn’t the nicest person when I was a teenager. Hadn’t learnt to keep my temper or how to be real with people. I love everyone here but it’s kinda cool having someone around who only sees who you are, not who you used to be, you know?”

“I get that,” says Ruben. “You kept Usnavi, though.”

“I did,” she agrees, tugging Usnavi’s swing sideways towards her so she can kiss him. “But that’s ‘cause he’s the one who always knew I wasn’t just the angry hot girl, so.”

She lets Usnavi go then kicks her feet against the ground to push off higher, too much emotion at ground level. The boys keep talking teenage years.

“What about you, Usnavi? What were you like as a kid?”

“Mostly always been the same, I think,” Usnavi says. “Got kinda fucked up for a while after, y’know. And I was sorta scrappy for a couple years when I was real little, but I left that behind once I learnt I could usually talk people out of being bullies better than I could fight them out of it. But otherwise I’m pretty much just me at any age.”

“That’s what I imagined,” says Ruben. “Tiny baby Usnavi, still in diapers, with his little red shirt and hat. Beard and everything.”

Vanessa drags her sneakers against the ground, slowing herself down so she can share important information. “I remember when he first started growing that.”

“Vanessa,” says Usnavi warningly.

“Oh, you remember too, babe?” she asks, innocent. “We were…what, you were sixteen, ish?”  
  
“Vanessa, do _not_.”

“You have to tell me,” says Ruben. “Since Vanessa knows. It’s only fair.”

“He had like, five facial hairs that he refused to shave and Benny kept telling him he looked dumb and should wait until he could grow a proper beard. He went the other way and just tried to fill it in with pen. Thought nobody could tell.”

“ _Everyone_ could tell,” Usnavi says. “But nobody bothered to mention that to me.”  


Ruben is laughing. Usnavi’s pretending to be annoyed but his eyes always give him away when he’s happy. Vanessa feels like she’s still swinging.

“I’m fairly fucking sure we did,” she says. “At least once a day. You just didn’t listen. I bet Nina still has the pictures, I’ll get her to talk you through all the albums some time, Ruben.”

“Look, we’ve all made poor choices,” says Usnavi. “ _Some_ of us are trying to move on from mistakes. Anyway, what’s your story, Ruben? My money’s on secret goth phase.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I was kind of boring as a teenager. I graduated high school and went to college early, mostly spent my time studying.”  
  
“How early?” Vanessa asks, curious. Ruben makes a face. “You don’t have to say, I’m just wondering.”  
  
“It makes me sound like kind of a dick if I brag about it,” he says, chewing his thumbnail.

“It’s not bragging if I asked you to tell me, though.”  
  
He ducks his head and mutters “fifteen.”

Jesus.

“Dios mio,” says Usnavi. Ruben shrugs.

“Hey,” says Vanessa. “It’s not a bad thing, Ruben."

“Yeah,” says Usnavi. “So you’re smart and you work really hard. We already knew that. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Not like you were drawing your beard on in pen or anything.”

Usnavi huffs at her, then gently adds, “but seriously, things like that, its no big. We just ask because we like knowing stuff about you.”

“Same reason you ask about us,” Vanessa says.

Ruben looks at them through his lashes and presses his lips together like he’s trying to hide a smile, and sits up straight again. He spins his swing, the two chains wrapping round each other, then lifts his feet so it unravels fast. Once he’s facing right-way round and steady again he says “there was like a year I spent rollerblading everywhere when I was sixteen.”

***

Usnavi does the monkey bars, his knees bent so his feet don’t hit the ground. The rain shines on his skin, all the muscles in his arms flexing. His white undershirt has gone see-through with water. Ruben, coming over to stand with Vanessa, makes an approving ‘mmm’ sound.

“I _know_ , right?” she says. They watch Usnavi make it to the end and then let go with his arms raised like an olympic gymnast finishing a routine. He bows in their direction, smirking so they know he could tell they were watching him. Vanessa tags in with a high five as she passes him, jumps to grab the first bar herself.She gets halfway across before she pulls herself upward, bringing her legs up and over and letting go so that she’s upside down with her hair falling loose around her, like she used to as a kid.Usnavi grabs a bar and lets himself hang by his arms with his legs crossed under him in mid-air.

“Come _hang out_ with us,” Usnavi says to Ruben, and cackles. Ruben, to Vanessa’s disgust, also laughs.

“I hate you both,” she says. “Come do the thing, Ruben.”

Ruben walks over, kisses her right-side up against upside-down, and says “sorry, Spiderman. I’ll leave the acrobatics to you two” before going over to hug Usnavi, who wraps his legs round Ruben’s hips and kisses him on the nose.

“He’s worried his withered old-person arms can’t hold him up, is the thing” she says in a stage-whisper to Usnavi, who snorts.

“Come down here and I’ll show _you_ old-person arms, García,” Ruben threatens, eyes bright. She flips herself upright and drops, landing gracefully in a crouch, one hand on the floor like she’s the poster for a superhero movie.

“You wouldn’t win in a fight with me,” she says. “I’m Spiderman.”

***

Vanessa comes back from the restroom to find Usnavi flailing about in one of those harness-like swingseats designed for toddlers and wonders why she’s even surprised.

“I might possibly be stuck,” he says, with great dignity. 

The first most important thing to do is, of course, pull out her phone and start recording. The second most important thing is to ask why the hell Usnavi would get in there in the first place.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he says, while Ruben laughs hysterically in the background. Vanessa points the camera accusingly at him. Ruben attempts to look serious and does not do a good job of it.

“You’re supposed to stop him doing things like this,” she says. Ruben shakes his head, sending rain droplets scattering, and falls into a fresh bout of giggles.

“This seat is becoming very uncomfortable in a deeply personal place,” Usnavi says, squirming about. She turns back to him. “Please stop filming my shame.”

“No,” says Vanessa. “You brought this on yourself. If we’re gonna have to spend our Saturday watching you get cut out of a child’s swing by the fire department, I’m at least letting everyone else enjoy it too.”

“We are _not_ calling the fire department,” says Usnavi. “Any other solutions?”  
  
“Accept this as your permanent new home and hope none of the parents think you’re some kind of really ineffective predator,” suggests Ruben.

Usnavi looks as though he might be seriously considering it. “Would you come visit me with snacks and kisses every day?” he asks, with big pleading eyes.

Ruben makes a _maybe_ gesture. “We have jobs and responsibilities, I can’t come home from college every lunchtime to feed my boyfriend who lives in a swing.”

Usnavi looks crestfallen. “Are we _really_ gonna have to call the fire department? I don’t want them to think I’m stupid.”

Ruben relents and says “no, of course not. Look, lean forward. Put your hands flat towards the floor.”

Usnavi does so, and with some complicated wiggling that involves Ruben tipping Usnavi into a kind of half-handstand and then shaking him out of the seat, Usnavi finally tumbles to the floor in a messy heap.

Ruben cheers. Vanessa zooms in on Usnavi lying on the ground and says in her best interview voice, “we’re here with an exclusive following today’s narrow escape in Bennett Park. Do you have a comment for us about the incident, Mr De la Vega?”

“It was rough going for a while there, but thanks to the brave and incredibly cute first responder at the scene, I made it out okay,” says Usnavi.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to your rescuer?”

Usnavi waggles his eyebrows into the camera and holds his hand to his face like a phone, mouthing _call me_. Vanessa shuts off the video and pokes him in the side with the toe of her sneaker. “Get up, idiot,” she says affectionately.

Usnavi springs to his feet and kisses Ruben on the cheek. “Gracias, hermoso. Although you coulda done that twenty minutes ago.”  
  
“I could’ve done,” agrees Ruben.

“Can I send this to people?” Vanessa waves her phone at Ruben, realising suddenly that his arms are on show for the whole video. He nods with forced kind of casualness. A tight, proud, aching feeling pulls at all her nerves.  
  
“Don’t put it on Facebook or anything though,” he says.

“I wouldn’t anyway.” There’s only a few people who know about the three of them still. Vanessa sends the video to Sonny, Benny and Nina. After watching the first twenty seconds or so play back and seeing the look on Ruben’s face in it, she also sends it to Ruben’s mom.

***

Even in the humidity the persistent rain starts to feel cold after a while in the park. Vanessa’s fingers are numb. Usnavi keeps pulling at his jeans, complaining about how they’re sticking to him. Ruben’s gone kind of quiet, rubbing distractedly at his scars which have turned a purplish color in the chill. It seems like time to leave.

They go back to Ruben’s place and he’s ridiculously apologetic when he says he thinks he needs to not talk for a few hours.

“Don’t worry, just tired,” he explains off their concern. “Sometimes it feels like I use up all my words. It comes back.”

She doesn’t really know what he means but she gets needing your own space for a while, and it’s not like he can lie convincingly to them about anything, so she takes him at his word. She guesses he’s maybe just not used to this much socialising.

“Do you want us to go to Usnavi’s and let you rest here?” Vanessa asks, and he shakes his head vehemently then looks uncertain.

“I mean. If you want? I have Netflix and snacks and books or whatever, and you can make yourselves at home. I just. Need to recharge. But you don’t have to leave, but it might be boring to stay, so thats also fine, it’s up to you, I don’t mind, it’s all fine.”

So he definitely, definitely minds.

“Can we borrow some dry clothes?” she asks, and Ruben’s eyes look like they’re filled with stars when he realises that means they’re staying with him.

“Sure,” he says, and when they’re all dried off and dressed Vanessa thinks they totally made the better choice of which place to go to. Ruben is some kind of curator of comfy clothes, most of his closet and drawer space filled with soft sweatpants and 100% cotton t-shirts and sweaters that sit a little too big even on him, so they swamp Vanessa when she puts one on. She tugs the sleeves all the way down over her hands the same way Ruben does when he’s nervous, and it’s like some kind of armor. She feels like nothing could touch her in this.

Usnavi and Vanessa lie together on the couch and Usnavi won’t stop fidgeting, even more than usual, a wondering look on his face.

“What’s your deal?” she asks, and he grabs her hand, shoves it down his borrowed sweatpants and says “feel this underwear.”  
  
“It’s nice underwear,” she confirms.  
  
“It’s made out of rainbows or dreams or something. Like a cloud is hugging my junk. Ruben, these boxers are _insane_.”

Ruben smiles silently and sets three coffee mugs down in front of them. Usnavi looks like he’s ascending to a new plane of existence. He’s real weird about the fact that Ruben makes good coffee.

“This is the best day,” Usnavi says, fervently. Vanessa hugs him tightly, suddenly full of love for how full of love he is.

Ruben just keeps smiling, curls up like a cat in the armchair in the corner with his phone and earbuds to listen to a podcast while they jump through single episodes of different sitcoms on Netflix. His face is peaceful, his eyes closed and both hands clasped around his coffee mug. It’s making Vanessa sleepy to look at him. She tries to sit up straighter to keep herself awake, but Usnavi holds her close against his chest.

“We’ll be here when you wake up if you want to nap, querida,” he says in her ear, sounding teasing like he knows she’s going to be unnecessarily stubborn about it because she always, always is. She decides to be surprising.

“‘Kay,” is all she says, and rearranges herself so her face is against Usnavi’s neck. He’s soft and warm and he smells like Ruben’s sweaters, and Ruben keeps smothering quiet laughs at whatever he’s listening to over in his chair.

Vanessa falls asleep fast.


	3. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: sorry if this is a nonsense mess i am only about thirty percent awake. usnavi and vanessa, taking very good care of their local sad chemistry dude]

Sunday morning’s slow to start just like the day before and it’s coming up on eleven AM by the time they get round to actually getting showered and dressed. Ruben’s stood in just a towel brushing his teeth when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

He opens it to Vanessa, the towel he’d left out for her slung over one shoulder and with her hair in a bun. She flashes him a peace sign and says “I’m showering now, is that cool?”

“Uh,” says Ruben, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Sure?” and Vanessa strips and climbs in the shower, casual beyond words.

He makes eye contact with his own reflection just so he doesn’t feel like he’s being stupidly astonished all by himself. Vanessa makes a high-pitched indignant sound as the water at Ruben’s default shower temperature hits her skin.

“Every goddamn time! How do you stand it like this? It’s barely even warm,” she complains, stepping backwards out of the spray while she cranks the heat up.

“Hot water’s bad for your skin,” says Ruben, “and god only knows what I’d do if I didn’t have my flawless complexion.”

Vanessa laughs. Steam starts to fill the bathroom, at about the same time that the noisy tangle of energy that is Usnavi also fills the bathroom, in that way he has of somehow giving off the eternal impression that he’s running in a circle while standing entirely still.

“What’s up, party people?” he greets them, shutting the door behind him. “I got lonely.”

“You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met,” says Ruben. Usnavi ignores him, closes the lid on the toilet to sit and lounge, his feet crossed at the ankles resting on the side of the tub.

Vanessa hums happily, shower now probably something close to scalding, not that it ever seems to have any negative effect on her skin. Hot water really does fuck Ruben’s up though, dries it out which makes everything pull tight and horrible when he moves. He never used to have to bother moisturising, before the scars. At least it means his hands are always soft now.

He reaches up his shelves to pull down the huge tub of coconut oil that’s supposed to help this kind of thing, rubs some briskly up each arm. Usually he takes his time, supposed to pay more attention to working it into the scar tissue but there’s something uncomfortably revealing about doing that in front of two people in a pretty crowded bathroom. 

His arms are the best cared for part of his wrecked upper body: it’s always a toss-up as to whether he can stand the feeling of touching his own chest (today he’s just going to avoid it, considering the current circumstances), and trying to reach his back is just a fiasco. The kind of flexibility it requires is not something Ruben’s been blessed with. Something twinges uncomfortably as he tries to reach over his shoulder. He tries to mask the squeaky _ow_ it elicits _._

“You need some help with that?” Usnavi offers.

“Uh,” says Ruben, again. It’s probably his most used word recently. “You…uh, only if you want to? I guess?”

Why anyone _would_ want to is beyond Ruben, but Usnavi looks oddly delighted, coats his hands in oil and gets to work. Ruben braces himself for the instinctive shudder - not an Ian memory, for once, something far more innocent. He's thinking of the way he always used to want to squirm away from his mother applying sunscreen to his back when he was a kid, her light fingers always sending a sensation like spiders scuttling under his skin.

Usnavi presses his hands very firmly, kneading deep into Ruben’s muscles. Ruben’s knees give out and he catches himself on the sink.

“Holy shit, what was that?!” he says. “Did you just Vulcan nerve pinch me?”

Vanessa steps out of the shower, looking all flushed and pretty, her hair coming down from the bun she’s kept it dry in and curling in the humidity. She takes up Usnavi’s abandoned spot on top of the closed toilet. “Oh, has this not come up before? Usnavi’s some kind of massage wizard. Can I use some of this coconut oil?”

“Sure,” says Ruben weakly. Usnavi digs the heels of his hands in. “Oh my _god_.”

Vanessa dips her fingers in the tub then smooths her hands up her legs. “Jeez, it’s like you’ve never had a massage before.”

“I haven’t,” he says. They both pause what they’re doing to look askance at him - Vanessa at his face, Usnavi leaning over Ruben’s shoulder to frown via reflection. “Oh, what, is that a _surprise_? Something about my general everything screams _hey, I‘d like to pay a stranger to rub their hands all over my naked body_ to you?”

“Fair point,” Usnavi concedes, pressing his thumbs into the small of Ruben’s back. “If I’d known this was your first one I’d have picked somewhere with more ambience than the bathroom. But! There, that’s you all greased up. Though really you need way more working over, you’re tense as hell, did you know that?”  
  
“My natural state of being,” says Ruben.

“God, you’re a bummer,” Vanessa sighs. “Do you have a spare toothbrush? I didn’t pack for an overnight before the park yesterday.”

Ruben rummages in the cabinet and finds a still-packaged toothbrush that he tosses to Vanessa. She turns to Usnavi while she’s unwrapping it from the plastic.

“Babe. You know what this means, though. It’s our god-given duty as best boyfriend-girlfriend ever to de-tense Ruben properly.”

Usnavi makes a big pantomime of checking his watch. “What, _today_? I’m supposed to be back at work tomorrow morning, do we have the _time_?”

“Fuck you, I’m not that bad,” says Ruben, hunching up defensively then hurriedly trying to look like he doesn't even know what hunching is.

“I’ll give you the proper treatment later, hermoso,” Usnavi promises, smoothing his hands one more time along the line of Ruben’s shoulders. “Do you have another toothbrush for me as well?”

“That was the only one in the cabinet, sorry.”

“That’s cool, I can just use yours,” says Usnavi.

“You can the fuck _not_ use mine,” says Ruben, horrified. “Jesus Christ, between this and the sock thing I’m seriously starting to wonder why I ever let you fuck me.”

“Well, what difference does it make? Your tongue’s already been in my mouth.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t digging food particles out of your teeth with it!”

“Hey, if that’s what you’re into, I wouldn’t stop you,” says Usnavi, tipping him a sleazy wink. 

Ruben wrinkles his whole face up at him in objection. “Was that supposed to be sexy?”

“Depends. Did it get you going?”

Obviously not directly: Ruben’s not so kinky that the idea of performing dental examinations with his tongue does anything for him, because gross. But then his thoughts skitter off down all the things he _would_ be happy to do to Usnavi with his tongue, and that definitely does do something for him. Goddammit.

“Absolutely not,” he lies. “Stop trying to seduce me while I’m being disgusted at you. Vanessa, can you…do something about him?”

Vanessa spits, rinses her toothbrush off and passes it to Usnavi, who gives Ruben a smug look as he grabs the toothpaste.

“God, what have I gotten myself into,” Ruben mutters, despairing.

***

Usnavi decides to try and undress for his own shower with all three of them squashed together in the bathroom and it’s such a cramped disaster that Ruben bows out to go and water his plants instead. Vanessa stays in the bathroom to chill with Usnavi. Ruben goes from bedroom to hallway and only sings very, very quietly so the other two can’t hear that he miiight have made up songs for his plants. He could just _not_ sing, of course, but it’s sort of an ingrained part of the routine. And he can’t help but feel like the plants would _know_ and feel bad about it, even though he is a scientist and does not believe that plants have feelings or can listen to him in the first place.

“Hi, guys,” he says to the bookshelf full of greenery in his living room as the bathroom door opens and then slams again. “Everyone okay today?”

“I’m stealing another pair of your boxers, Ruben!” Usnavi yells from the bedroom.

“Go for it!” Ruben yells back.

They take so long doing god knows what that Ruben’s almost done with the row of herbs growing in pots along the kitchen windowsill by the time Vanessa leans against the doorframe and says “what’s that you’re singing?”  
  
“I’m not!” says Ruben, quickly. She gives him a kind of inscrutable look that he takes to mean _why would you even bother_ but doesn’t ask any questions. Usnavi appears behind her, mostly obscured by a towel that he’s ruffling over his head. When he emerges wild-haired Vanessa twists one damp sticky-out side section between her thumb and finger with a considering look.

“This is getting kinda long,” she says. “You want me to do it for you today?”

“You’re a saint and an angel,” he tells her. “Been meaning to ask but you know how it is, busy busy.”

She transfers her critical gaze over to Ruben and his own increasingly unkempt hair.

“You want tidying up too, Ruben? Or are you thinking of rocking that laid-back hippy lecturer look to the max?”

“I dunno. You reckon it’d fool anyone into thinking I was actually laid back?”

“Maybe. If they didn’t talk to you or look at anything other than your hair.” She leans over and straightens out a section of his bangs between two fingers to see how long it is. “No offence, but this is kind of uneven.”

Since Ruben got home from Jamaica he’s been making do with cutting his own hair. He’s got slightly better with practice but yeah, he’s not great at it. It’s been a while since he bothered to do it at all. It’s past his eyebrows now, long enough that he can feel it touching his eyelashes when he blinks sometimes, and curling awkwardly over his ears, both of which are incredibly annoying sensations so probably it’s about time to sort it out.

The idea of having someone stood over him with sharp tools so close to his skin, their hands touching him over and over somehow doesn’t appeal much. But this is _Vanessa._ And he’s already been brave twice this weekend. He let himself be drunk in front of them. He wore a t-shirt. Might as well go three days for three.

“Sure, you can cut it,” he says, and it comes out in a very tiny voice. Vanessa gives him another look like she knows exactly what’s going on in his head but again doesn’t call him out, just turns to Usnavi and says “All my stuff’s still at your place from last time.”

“I can go round and get it after lunch,” Usnavi says. “That’d give us…an hour, ish, to lie on Ruben’s couch and make out.”

It’s a pretty good way to spend the morning, and a pretty good distraction from what’s coming up, though it lingers in Ruben’s mind like an itch anyway.

***

Vanessa does Usnavi’s hair stood behind him in Ruben’s kitchen while Usnavi sits shirtless in a chair and tries not to move around too much, with mixed success. He’s not really fidgeting, and is in fact visibly trying his best to hold himself still, but it just means the pent up energy comes out in big full-body twitches at random moments instead of a series of tiny constant movements. Vanessa makes exasperated comments about how she's gonna cut an ear off if he keeps on doing that.

“On purpose, or by accident?” asks Usnavi, and Vanessa says “we’ll see”, but despite his restlessness she doesn’t even mess up his haircut, never mind anything else. Once she’s trimmed the top she pulls out a set of clippers and runs them expertly over the sides of Usnavi’s scalp, and it doesn’t take long for him to be back to the neat fauxhawk style that he’d wore when Ruben first met him.

“That’s better,” says Usnavi happily, checking himself out in the mirror Vanessa holds out to him, points and winks at his own reflection. “Lookin’ bueno, all ready to go out and break some hearts!”

He immediately crams his hat back on his head. Vanessa smiles indulgently at his back.

“Your turn, Ruben.”

“I don’t wanna—“ he indicates Usnavi, still shirtless. That would be pushing his limits.

“That’s cool, got a towel you can wear,” she says, picking up Usnavi’s discarded towel from earlier, dropped across the back of a chair.

Ruben takes up his place in front of Vanessa and she drapes the towel around his shoulders. He tries so hard not to feel uncomfortable, but he can feel her presence standing tall behind him and it’s making him kind of antsy. Breathe deeply, focus on that.

There’s a quiet noise of the scissors being set down.

“Change of plan,” says Vanessa. “Up.”

Ruben stands, confused, and she tucks the chair back under the table, picks up her comb and scissors, and settles down on the floor, patting the tile in front of her.

“Come sit here,” she tells him, and he does. It’s so much less intense, like this, with her at equal height to him, with the comforting expanse of floor under his legs and hands so he doesn’t feel adrift. He doesn’t flinch when she starts carefully cutting the back of his hair.

“You’re very clever, did you know?” he tells her. He can feel her breath on his skin when she laughs. Usnavi isn’t saying anything for once, just sat at the table while he watches them together.

“There was this one kid at the salon who only ever let me cut her hair,” she says, voice light and conversational. "The Lopez's kid, you remember them, Usnavi? Always wore these little red overalls and a matching hat, just the cutest thing you ever saw. She was autistic - _h_ _ated_ strangers touching her, hated taking the hat off, couldn't really explain why, really just the whole experience sucked.”

Ruben’s heart skips painfully: does Vanessa _know_? But no, how could she, she’s just explaining how she got the idea and that’s not what his hangup is right now anyway. Though a much younger version of Ruben would definitely sympathise with this little kid in the red overalls.

“She’d scream and scream whenever Dani or her mom tried to get her in the chair,” Vanessa continues. “But if you sat on the floor with her and let her play with her Legos and keep the hat on and told her exactly what you were doing first, then she was the most well-behaved kid we ever had. She just liked to be in control of it. And she always liked me best after that first time I did that for her. She was pretty chill. The scissors are gonna have to touch your skin now, Ruben.”

“Okay,” he says, quiet.

She trims along the back of his neck and even with the warning the cold metal makes him shudder violently.

“I’m sorry,” says Vanessa, pulling away to give him a moment. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Usnavi comes over and sits down beside Ruben, still strangely silent, and takes his hand.

“I know I always bitched about my job while I was there but I was pretty good at it,” Vanessa says, back to the light tone. “It’s just about treating customers as people, you know? Knowing what they need as individuals.”

Usnavi smiles over at her, an infinitely loving look. Ruben’s focus narrows to Usnavi’s face, andthe touch of Vanessa’s fingers, drowns out his awareness of the rest of it.

“Back’s all done. I’m gonna come round and do the top and sides now, babe. You wanna close your eyes first so you don’t have to see the scissors?"

“Yes,” he says, doing so, and when he feels like he’s ready, he says “okay, carry on.”

She shuffles her position and works as fast as possible, warning him whenever she needs to put the blades up against his skin. Usnavi breathes deliberately deep and slow beside him. Ruben matches his rhythm.

“Alright, just this last bit at the front now,” says Vanessa. “Nearly over. Do you need a break?”  


She really is a lot sweeter than she’ll ever admit to being.

“No,” he says. “I’m fine. Just tell me when I can open my eyes again.”

There’s a few more soft tugs and snipping sounds and then she fluffs her fingers through his hair and says “all done”.The scissors are nowhere to be seen when he opens his eyes.

“You did great, honey,” she tells him.

“Thanks. But next time I definitely want those Legos,” he says. Usnavi leans round to take in Ruben’s new look properly then breathes in sharply.

“What?” Ruben asks, bringing his hand up to his head, self-conscious.

“Oh, _snap_ ,” says Usnavi, and his face breaks into a big lovely smile. “ _Well_. Look at our Dr Marcado, all handsome and professional-like.”

He holds the mirror up for Ruben. And wow, Vanessa’s cut it short, shorter than it’s been for a couple of years. Not that Usnavi would know but it _is_ almost how he used to wear it back when he was Dr Marcado at IMH, except done with far more skill. It’s kind of a shock to see it, not in a bad way.

But something about it makes him look at himself properly, so the reason he’s staring slightly open-mouthed is that he’s so used to his face as something that is usually faded by familiarity. Or overshadowed by the vivid line intersections on his body that don’t disgust him as much any more but still always take the foreground. Why bother paying that much attention anyway, outside of practicalities like shaving and checking that he’s not covered in dirt? He already knows what he looks like. Except apparently he doesn’t, because this isn’t the picture of him he holds inside his head. 

Ruben always pictures himself as looking exhausted, a living continuation of the images he kept seeing across the news when his miraculous reappearance was still a story to pick over. He pictures himself as half-starved and scared and skittish, with sharp-cut hollows in his cheeks and eyes so shadowed he’s chiaroscuro. He’s been aware for ages in a detached way that he put his weight back on, makes jokes about Usnavi being small and skinny, but it’s the first time he’s really _seen_ that he’s softer than he used to be, in all senses of the word. He doesn’t look like he’s hungering, for food or safety or affection.

He could maybe even see why Vanessa and Usnavi might want him, maybe.

“I didn’t take too much off, did I?” asks Vanessa, packing away her things. “I figured this way you can stretch it out longer between cuts, so you don’t have to keep getting it done.”

“No,” Ruben answers, manages to keep his voice mostly normal. “No, it’s perfect.”

“So is it our turn to cut your hair now, Vanessa?” chirps Usnavi.

“You’ll have to kill me first,” she says.

***

She obviously doesn't let them near her hair and who can blame her, but when they sit down on the couch and Vanessa pulls out a couple bottles of nail polish and holds them up against each other to decide between deep royal blue or a rich bloody red, Ruben wants to return the favor in some way and make her feel looked after too, so he offers to do it for her.

She gives him a dubious look. 

“I do have sisters,” he reminds her. “I’ve done it before. I’m pretty good.”  
  
“Alright, knock yourself out,” she says, passing over the red nail polish. He shakes the bottle and gets to work.

“Can I do your toes, then, if we’re gonna lean in to this whole slumber party vibe?” Usnavi asks.

“Hell no, I just did them yesterday. And no offence, babe, but you’re not exactly Mr Fine Motor Skills two-K-seventeen, y’know?”

“Aw,” he says, seeming so disappointed that Ruben can feel himself immediately cracking, the way he probably always will when Usnavi gets that look on his face.

“You can do _my_ toes if you want, Usnavi.” Not like anyone’s gonna see them, anyway.

“You are such a soft touch,” says Vanessa, and she’s absolutely right but it’s worth it for Usnavi’s sunny reaction. They rearrange themselves to better positions and Ruben and Usnavi go quiet while they focus on what they’re doing. Vanessa sings quietly to herself to pass the time.

When Ruben finishes the first thin coat on her left hand and moves over to the right, Vanessa looks down at it with faint surprise. “Oh! You actually are good at that.”

“I’ve always had steady hands,” he says.

“Alright for some,” mutters Usnavi, who…oh, definitely does not have a steady hand.

“Do you have a nerve problem you haven’t told me about?” Ruben asks, not actually intending to sound like he’s making fun of Usnavi, though he thinks it maybe came out that way. Usnavi’s hands are so wobbly they’re practically spasming. It looks kind of painful.

“It’s just a lil fiddly,” says Usnavi, and carries on with, face all furrowed in concentration. 

When Ruben finishes Vanessa’s nails she holds them out to admire and blow on them to dry. When Usnavi’s done both feet he grabs Ruben by the ankles and raises them in the air in a celebratory way. Ruben tips backwards with a squawk; Usnavi waves Ruben’s feet around demonstratively.

“Ta-daah! Look, isn’t it hideous? Sorry. I am very bad at this.”

Ruben’s nails - and also half the skin on his actual feet - are now a stunning shade of splotchy, uneven-edged deep blue. Looks sort of more like a rare and incurable disease than a pedicure. Usnavi peeks inquiringly at Ruben over the top of his toes.

“I love it,” says Ruben honestly, and Usnavi illuminates with delight.

***

Usnavi comes back from the bathroom later and he’s carrying a towel and Ruben’s tub of coconut oil.

“It’s massage time!” he says, very close to Ruben’s face. “I did promise. You _will_ be relaxed."

“Are you threatening me?” Ruben asks. Usnavi kisses his cheek and lays the towel out on the floor. “What’s that for?”  
  
“Well, you can sit up or lie on the couch if you’d prefer, but it’ll be more chill this way. I figure since the whole front side’s gonna be out of bounds anyway, best way to go about this is you lie face down and I’ll sit on you. I know you’re into the whole…whatever it is body pressure thing so it’ll probably just make it better. And I don’t wanna get coconut oil on your floor.”

“…Waaait, how do you know about the pressure thing?” Ruben asks, slowly.

“Oh, we learned all _kinds_ of things about you the other night, my lightweight little friend,” says Vanessa, grinning wickedly, and Ruben groans. God _dammit,_ drunk Marcado, why would you even bring it up? “Quite the kink list you’ve got there.”

“ _Shit,”_ he says, covering his face. “I am so sorry. That was the alcohol. I was definitely not planning on springing all my weirdness on you all at once. Sort of hoping to sneak it in bit by bit so nobody would notice.”

“Hey, I said it wasn’t weird. Looking forward to learning some new tricks, y’know?” Something in her voice changes. “In fact. There’s something we could start with right now.”

Possibly that should be exciting but Ruben’s stomach turns because - he’s not sure exactly what he might’ve said to them. Ruben’s got a lot of things he always assumed he’d never do, and lot of things he discovered via the lack of self-consciousness allowed for by lot of alone time, a credit card and several useful websites with first-time customer coupon codes and extremely discrete packaging. And now hegets to do these things, with two incredibly beautiful people, which is mind-blowing and and he _wants_ to but its so soon, too quick to do the kinds of things he jerks it to. They’ve only been dating six weeks. He’s never even been in a relationship before and he’s not coming to it from the best of backgrounds. They’re still figuring each other out just at the basics. It’s way too soon but he’s still not sure he could say no if they offered.

But Vanessa doesn’t push him down or say she’s gonna dom him or anything like that, she lifts his face gently and looks so deeply into his eyes that it hurts, and says “Ruben. You _are_ good. I meant it, when you asked. You’re a good person.”

He…does not remember asking that, either, but it’s not like it’s news to him that he’s into this, so of _course_ he told them about it it. Somehow it’s the least explicitly sexual thing he likes and the most embarrassing one to share at once. He’s not really sure whether it even falls into kink or just something he likes - needs? - to hear or what wires might get crossed in his head, but regardless of how to classify it, the praise hits him like a suckerpunch.

“Fuck,” he says, and closes his eyes. “You really don’t have to- I wasn’t trying to get you to—“

“Sssh,” she says. “We were so proud of you yesterday. The t-shirt.”

She doesn’t sound hesitant or embarrassed, the way she usually does when she’s revealing her genuine side. Her voice is dark and breathy, a weird contrast to the sweetness of her words but one that seems to fit.

God, but he could cry.

“I can’t promise that I’ll do it again any time soon,” he says, choked up. “Or that it’ll ever happen anywhere busier.”

“You don’t have to,” says Usnavi, and he just sounds the way he alway does. “We’re still proud. And of today, with the haircut. And all the other days, too.”

_“Fuck_ ,” Ruben says again. This came out of _nowhere_.

“Lie down,” Vanessa tells him. “Let us make you feel good.”

Ruben takes his shirt off in a daze, lies down on the floor with Usnavi sitting straddled over his back. It feels good already. It feels even better when Usnavi glides his oiled hands over the scars that fan up Ruben’s back like the skeletons of wings. There’s still such a huge part of Ruben thats amazed at how willingly they touch him, unbothered by whatever fading poisons linger on his surfaces, visible or otherwise. 

Usnavi really is something else at this, getting to all the deep aching places Ruben’s got used to ignoring: he digs in hard with his palms and his knuckles and even his elbows, and Ruben makes a whole load of stupid, embarrassing, satisfied noises that he can’t even try to cover. Usnavi’s voice is murmuring endearments in bilingual: “mi precioso, beautiful, mi querido“, they all pierce through Ruben like a threaded needle, mending ripped places with a sting that’s sharp but necessary.

Vanessa takes one of his hands in hers and presses her thumb rhythmically across the palm, rubs little circles, brings his hand up to her mouth and kisses it, keeps doing that in a little pattern of touches.

It’s something very strange, he thinks, to be theirs so completely - and early days or not, he’s not gonna kid himself that he isn’t - and still feel as though nobody owns him but himself.

It’s something very strange to be touched without it having to mean anything other than comfort, even though that’s been going on for months now. Something less and more and exactly the same as all the times they’ve fucked each other. Yeah, he’s hard - he’s lying semi-naked with a cute guy rubbing oil into his back and a cute girl massaging his hands and kissing his fingertips, why the hell wouldn’t he be - but he doesn’t want to do anything about it. It would be too much, with the sweet things that they’re saying and all the strange bright feelings clustered up inside him from this weekend, he’s got no space to add anything else. This is enough.

Also he’s not sure if he could even be bothered to have an orgasm right now, he’s so fucking relaxed. No wonder people pay for this shit.

He’s pretty much become one with the floor completely by the time Usnavi decides they’re done, a long, long time later. Vanessa’s already switched between both his hands multiple times each and has settled into just gently holding one while she watches Usnavi work. He kisses Ruben’s shoulders, one on either side, before he stands up. Vanessa lays his hand softly on the ground. Ruben tries to move his arms and sort of just flops a bit.

“Dios mio,” he murmurs. 

“So. You have officially experienced massage. Thoughts?” asks Usnavi, even though he obviously knows the answer.

“I think all the bones have fallen out of my body. Five stars on Yelp, would visit again,” says Ruben, forehead still resting on the floor. “If you find my skeleton lying around can you send it in my direction, I need it for walking and doing things.”

He wills himself uselessly for a moment till he’s solid enough to roll over. 

“This weekend has been _awesome_ ,” Usnavi says, apparently to himself. Vanessa kisses him right at the corner of his mouth like she’s agreeing with the statement. Ruben doesn’t know what to call whatever emotion that causes inside him. Sometimes Ruben thinks he might actually have the power to transmit all his unvoiced feeling over to them telepathically just by liking them hard enough, there’s so much crackling off him like static. 

Later he’ll figure out a way to show his gratitude. It’s still only afternoon, there’s plenty of time to go slow with them, figure out the right combination of words and movement to make them both unspool under his touch, though he doesn’t think they’ll know it as relief the way he does: things he doesn’t even notice himself carrying any more, put down for at least a while. His skin doesn’t feel like it fits as wrong as it does the rest of the time right now, just a little more give in the places where it healed unelastic and taut. If he looks up at them instead of at himself he almost can’t tell he’s patchwork at all. He blinks around tears.

“You okay there, honey?” asks Vanessa, when she sees his eyes are wet.

“I’m happy,” Ruben says, has been for a while, bad days and all, but he still can’t help but be surprised by it every single time. “I’m just really happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: why am i still so fucking invested in this fictional man’s wellbeing can someone make it stop (do not).]

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about any mistakes, it's like 2:30am here but i wanted to get it posted.
> 
> come hang with me on [tumblr!](https://thisstableground.tumblr.com/)


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